Prom, And Other Disasters
by Cadence
Summary: After Peter publishes an article in the newspaper about Nathan's affairs, Nathan plots revenge. Between prom and the anniversary of their father's death, his plot quickly becomes twisted for both of them. Sequel to "Scandal". HIGH SCHOOL AU
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Prom, And Other Disasters

**Pairing:** Peter/Nathan

**Rating**: M

**Warnings:**incest, sexual abuse of a minor, implied physical abuse, drug use

**Disclaimer: **Heroes belongs to Tim Kring, NBC et al

**Author's note: **As you can tell from the pairing and the warnings, this _is_ a Peter/Nathan story. Despite being AU, they are related, and their relationship _is_ incest. There are other dark themes and allusions to sexual abuse. If you are not comfortable reading this, then DON'T. I try not to romanticize their relationship, and I certainly don't endorse incest or abuse of this kind.

**Author's note 2:** I want to thank my awesome and gracious betas from over on LJ, Miss Miso and Mimesh!

**Summary:** After Peter published a near disastrous article in the school newspaper about Nathan's illicit affairs on campus, Nathan plots revenge. But with both prom and the anniversary of their father's death coming up, the plot quickly becomes twisted for both of them, emotionally and psychologically. Sequel to "Scandal"

Everyone talked about how good the Student Senate looked on transcripts. No one talked about how damn much of the class was dedicated to debating crepe paper decorations, and the merits thereof.

_Streamers_, Nathan wrote on his official Senate agenda, pen working with sharp, stabbing precision, _Dead!_

Emergency meetings arguing over the prom Committee budget, held two fucking weeks in advance of the event itself, weren't exactly an ideal way to spend a Saturday afternoon, in the esteemed opinion of the Monroe High Class President. Admittedly, for him, an ideal Saturday afternoon was one spent in slow, leisurely kissing with his brother Peter, but that was neither here nor there.

Nor, thankfully, was it in his little brother's newspaper. Unlike how tête–à–têtes with prospective Senate appointees were and, if this afternoon's problem didn't resolve itself soon, bankrupting the Student Senate over a _dance_ would be.

To be fair, it was his own damned fault. He should have known better than to let one of Mohinder's friends take point on the decoration committee. Mohinder had been a staunch political ally as the Senior class representative, and the Junior class rep the previous year when Nathan was just the Class Vice President, but much as Nathan loved the guy, he had to admit Mohinder's taste in people was more than a little shitty.

Still, the designs Candice had presented to the Senate had been convincing. How were they supposed to know that plan was an illusion, a daydream just one puff of reality away from collapsing?

The bulk of the money was already spent, going to the DJ flown in from LA -- because, of course, New York was _too_ close, and didn't the Seniors deserve something special? Going to the catering, because the evening was supposed to be an _event_. And going to renting out the grand ballroom of the Deveaux building, because everyone should feel like royalty at least once.

That cost, at least, had not been the blow out expected. The Deveauxs were good friends of the Petrellis and Simone was a graduating Senior, so it had not been difficult for Nathan to negotiate a a lower price in the interest of Mr. Deveaux securing the perfect night for his darling daughter.

Which still led to the current dilemma. Decorations comma paper.

"It's tacky," Tracy snapped, facing down a sharp glare from Meredith across the table. "You want to festoon a vaulted, neo-baroque ballroom with paper _rosettes_ and _honeycombs_? Please. It should be fabric and fresh flowers, or nothing at all."

Nathan groaned. It was like she wanted to ruin him.

"We don't have the money for that," he reminded her.

"Perhaps that is an idea to consider," Mohinder started. "No decorations at all. Wasn't the purpose of securing a beautiful location in the first place the fact that it _is_ beautiful? Why waste money dressing it up to look like something it isn't?"

As a collective, the Senate shifted in their seats, torn between the appeal of the idea and the nagging feeling that Mohinder was just trying to duck responsibility for his bad appointment.

"Sounds fine to me," Ando shrugged. "It is not like we have a new design."

Meredith and Heidi, proponents of the crepe paper proposal, grumbled their acquiescence. It was pretty obvious that the old theme would be horrific in paper, and there really wasn't anything else on the table.

It didn't feel like a victory to Nathan, though. It grated, this idea that the best course of action was to do nothing at all. He'd learned well all too recently that he did not have the fredom to rest on his laurels.

"I see your point, but this doesn't sit right with me," Nathan said, ignoring the impatient huffs from around the circular meeting table. "I know that none of you want to meet back here tomorrow, or deal with this in class on Monday. So what I'm proposing now is that we table this, and you all agree that if I can allocate more funds for an immediate solution, I can act unilaterally, without another committee meeting to effect the action."

"You want the power to issue executive orders?" Tracy balked. She raised a hand, gesturing the the heretofore ignored audience to the meeting sitting in the back: Ando's friend Hiro. "Despite what you may have told him, you are a _student_, Nathan."

"I am. But this is a very narrow application, Tracy. I can't possibly see why you would object."

Nathan held Tracy's cool gaze for a long moment, before Eden broke the silence, "Why don't we call it a day, draft the proposal, Trace, making it as limited as possible, and e-mail it over?"

Tracy shrugged, the set of her shoulders still stiffly defiant, but Nathan could tell she had been persuaded. He let out a long, relieved breath.

"Good. Then I move to adjourn...."

***

As Senate Secretary, it was Heidi's job to type up the minutes of the meetings and summarize them for Peter's newspaper, Audrey in video journalism, and Hana over in new media.

These days, though, Nathan wasn't a big fan of making things too easy on Peter, so he asked Heidi to just forward the summary to him and let him pass it on at home.

"He was just doing his job, you know," she said, rolling her eyes. Any sympathy he could have expected from her was clearly canceled out by her still hard feelings over the break up. "Maybe you shouldn't have fucked Meredith at home if you didn't want him to break the story."

"That's not the point," Nathan snapped, before remembering himself. "Will you leave it to me, please? I want to take care of this myself."

He wanted to make Peter _crawl_, to beg to be allowed to do his job again. He didn't get to have access anymore.

If Heidi understood that subtext, she ignored it, sighing, "Fine. I'll finish it tonight and send it over."

Nathan drove home, for once relishing the slow New York City traffic that allowed him to contemplate the best way to exact his revenge on Peter. Should he just wait for Peter to realize he was cut off, wait for Peter to get righteously angry when he stormed into Nathan's bedroom, demanding the due right of the school paper's Editor in Chief? Or should he tell Peter himself, set the terms of surrender and watch that beautiful rebelliousness crumble right in front of his face?

Foot in the front door, Nathan barely noticed how quiet the house was. The help was usually off on the weekends, but their presence was often as not replaced by Peter's friends or Company affiliates come to plead their case with Ma. He took the stairs two at a time to the second floor, hip bumping against a table in the hall as he turned a corner, nearly sending a crystal vase and fresh cut hellebore to the floor.

He paused in front of Peter's closed door, back straight, licking his lips in anticipation. He took a deep breath – and tasting the scent of the air, his heart immediately clenched.

The plan was no good. Not today.

Nathan knocked at the door as a courtesy, but eased it open before there was any response. Smoke did not roll out into the hall, Peter knew better than that at least, but the smell of cannabis intensified. Nathan closed the door behind him, striding quickly across his brother's room to open the window, before turning his gaze to the figure upside down on the bed.

Peter had stripped down his boxers, and the state of his trash bin gave a good indication of what he'd been up to all afternoon. So did the sarcastic salute he hailed Nathan with, lifting his half empty bottle of Jack in acknowledgement before wetting his lips with whiskey.

Nathan brought a hand up to his forehead, feeling a headache coming on.

"So, I take it you spent the afternoon getting high and jerking off? I thought you had a newspaper meeting."

Peter tilted his head back to offer Nathan a lazy grin.

"Where do you think I got the pot?"

Motherfucking Isaac, of course. Nathan really, really wished he could get that stoned idiot expelled. Peter always protested that Isaac was an integral part of the paper, the best cartoonist he had. The only one he had.

Some of Nathan's disapproval – well, probably all of it – must have shown on Nathan's face, because Peter's brow furrowed in annoyance.

"Whatever. You're just mad you didn't think of it first."

Nathan had thought of _plenty_. His plan had just been less solitary and more collaborative in nature. He sat heavily on the bed, toeing his sneakers off before letting himself fall backwards, head at Peter's feet.

"I don't suppose you have anything left for me?" he asked.

Peter pressed the bottle into Nathan's hand; so very much not what he was asking for. Nathan took it anyway, bringing it up to his lips for a long swallow. His other hand groped for Peter's, tugging him to sit. Peter shifted with bad grace, grumbling as he resettled right side up, face centimeters from Nathan's.

His eyes were red, pupils blown out, leaving only the sliver of greenish hazel irises. His hair was stringy with sweat, falling onto his forehead, breath hot and stale against Nathan's lips. Nathan reached out, thumb drifting across the sharp line of Peter's jaw. His skin felt slightly cool to the touch, and Nathan wondered just how long he'd been drinking.

"Jesus, Pete. What happened?"

Peter's eyes were hazily confused.

"Nothing. Had a good afternoon. How was yours?"

"I think Tracy is out to get me."

Peter nodded swiftly in agreement, saying, "Yeah, she hates you."

"What?" Nathan frowned. Why was he the last to know these things?

"Hates your guts. She never forgave you for cheating on Niki last year."

Peter curled an arm around Nathan, letting himself be pulled close, burrowing his head down into the crook of Nathan's neck, seeking warmth. Nathan stroked his hand through Peter's hair, trying to distract himself from becoming aroused by thinking through this problem.

His eyes studied the posters on Peter's ceiling – Fallout Boy, _really_? – before shaking his head, "That doesn't make sense. Niki never even liked me that much."

"She and DL make a good couple," Peter said, voice muffled. Yeah, such a good couple that they were the front runners for prom King and Queen. Especially now that Nathan and Heidi were out of the question. Not that he was bitter.

Peter, apparently bored with cuddling, started to kiss and lick at Nathan's neck, making him groan. He shifted restlessly on the bed, feeling himself get hard and knowing he'd get no relief. Not with Peter smashed off his ass and wrung out from stroking off all afternoon.

Or maybe he would. Things didn't always have to be mutual...

Satisfied with his work, Peter pulled back long enough to murmur, "C'mere."

He pressed his mouth up to Nathan's, open and wet, tasting like the whiskey Nathan knew he _hated_. Dad drank whiskey. Used to drink.

"I'm still mad at you, you know," Nathan said between kisses.

"Mmm. Why?"

"Your nasty trick with the paper," Nathan said, nipping hard at Peter's neck. "If the Academy hears about that..."

Peter cracked an amused eye open. "Should have gone with early admission, like me. Besides, they won't hear. If there's one thing the school is afraid of, it's Mom. If there's two, it's Mom and tarnishing the school's reputation. It's just gossip."

"It's gossip about _me_," Nathan growled. He _would_ have his revenge. Just not today.

Peter rolled onto Nathan, grinding down and smiling at Nathan's reaction. He reached for the bottle, taking a long swallow and then another mouthful. Before Nathan could protest, he leaned down again, bare chest heavy on Nathan's, heat seeping through his annoyingly buttoned shirt. Nathan gripped the back of Peter's head hard as Peter sealed his mouth over Nathan's to share the drink, Peter's tongue gentle to soothe the burn of the alcohol. A trickle escaped from the corner of Nathan's mouth.

Panting, Nathan felt the warm room start to spin around him. He shut his eyes, trying to keep control, only to have them snap open when Peter palmedhim hrough his trousers.

"Stay with me," Peter whispered, gaze intent through the cloudiness.

Nathan wiped his face with two fingers, examining them as he joked, "Dad wouldn't approve. He said not to waste a drop."

He also drank much better whiskey than Jack Daniels, but that wasn't really the point.

If Nathan expect Peter to react to the mention of Dad – the anniversary was coming up, it had to be that – he was disappointed. Wordlessly, without the guile, without the consciously flirtatious look in his eyes he would usually offer, Peter ducked his head down, mouth enveloping Nathan's fingers to suck every hint of the alcohol from his pores.

His eyes fluttered closed, eyelashes dark, thick lines above his cheekbones as he sucked and swirled his tongue, and _fuck_ if that wasn't nearly enough right there.

Breath heaving in his chest, Nathan groaned, "How long?"

Peter pulled back, fingers popping from his mouth, his hand reached out unsteadily, pressing down on Nathan's chest as he tried to keep his balance. Even sitting upright, it seemed, took effort for him in this state.

Nathan kept that hand where it was, caressing Peter's cheek with his wet fingers as Peter asked in puzzlement, "How long for what?"

"How long until Ma gets back?"

"She's been here all day."

Nathan jerked suddenly, pushing Peter off him and scrambling off the bed to stand.

"What? Are you _trying_ to get caught?" _Again?_

Peter glared up from the awkward position he landed in, legs and arms a naked jumble.

"She and Noah have been in Dad's old study all day, working on Company business. They haven't been up here once. We're not going to get _caught_, Nathan."

Nathan paced across the room, kicking the clutter of shoes and clothes and half-finished news-copy out of his way.

"What about Claire?" he snapped. "Is she here, too? God, what were you _thinking_?"

"What about Claire?" Peter mimicked, eyes glittering viciously. "Do you even listen to yourself? It's a _Saturday_. She's at her mom's. But the high and mighty Nathan Petrelli can't even deign to learn the comings and goings of his fucking family. What a shock."

"She is _not_ our family!"

"Step. Whatever, close enough."

Angry as Nathan was, he really hadn't had any idea if Claire was around until Peter confirmed she wasn't. His mind did quickly click into gear, though, because if Claire wasn't home that meant...

"What about Lyle, Pete? He's just a kid. You want him walking in on us?"

Peter was clearly done being angry. He shrugged, falling back onto the bed, hand groping again for the Jack where it had fallen on the bed, a slow steam of whiskey spilling onto his bed covers. He needed to change them anyway.

"So I teach him to roll a joint, so what? He'll probably learn on his own, anyway."

"If you think the _drugs_ are the problem here... God, Pete, maybe you _should_ get caught, go through therapy again. It clearly didn't make a dent the first time."

Peter lifted his head off the bed, a surprisingly ironic look on his face for someone so high.

"You always say the sweetest things when we fuck."

Nathan gritted his teeth together, acknowledging the hit. It was a bit hard to call Peter out on being fucked up when sex with Nathan sure as hell contributed a lot there.

"Try to be sober before dinner, Pete," Nathan said tersely, turning for the door.

"I love you, too!" Peter sneered.


	2. Chapter 2

Nathan heard a soft click behind him and the gentle creak of door hinges working. He ignored it, finishing up the last of his Calc homework. Normally he would have tried to finish it on Friday, just to clear out his whole schedule for the weekend, but Friday night was when he received the urgent text about the prom's budget problem, so the rest of the night had been spent corralling the Senate to set up the emergency meeting the next day.

Saturday, of course, had been the meeting and Peter, both leaving him in an unsatisfied, tightly wound coil. Unable to concentrate, he'd spent the rest of the evening in step-brotherly "bonding" with Lyle, playing football in the garden.

Today was another work day for Ma and Noah, the quiet kind that was occasionally punctuated by calm, frightening threats. Which made it a very good day to spend outside or upstairs, at least until they finished their business. Nathan was moderately sure that Lyle was off at one of his many, many sporting activities. It was a good bet, anyway.

The last time Nathan looked out the window, Peter had been laying in a sunny spot on the grass, phone held close to his face while he laughed, smile bright enough that Nathan could feel it from his room. He'd probably been talking to Isaac. Or Simone. Whichever one he claimed to be dating this week.

Nathan's thoughts had turned again to expulsion and why, while it was an extremely bad plan to enact with Simone in particular, it was very enjoyable to fantasize about. It took a long time for Nathan to force himself away from the window, and even longer to force himself back to work.

Soft footsteps sank into the plush carpeting, barely making a sound.

"Finishing your homework on a Sunday _afternoon_?" Peter asked, peering over Nathan's shoulder, hand warm enough against Nathan's neck to make him shiver. "I don't know what to say, Nathan. You're losing your touch. Soon you're going to be as lazy as _me_."

Nathan punched a few keys on his graphing calculator, finding the area underneath the curve. Writing down the last few numbers, he pointedly laid down his pencil and closed his book.

"Not likely, Pete." He shifted in his seat, turning to look up at his brother. He looked better today, back to normal. The wildness was gone from his eyes, replaced by his usual gentle uncertainty. "What's up?"

Peter licked his lips, looking down for a moment before looking back up from under his bangs.

"I just wanted to apologize. I didn't mean what I said yesterday. I'm sorry."

"Ah," Nathan said. "You're only sorry for _yesterday_."

This was the moment where Nathan hoped Peter would glare at him, anger suddenly crackling in his eyes. He'd growl back, _"Is there something I should be sorry for?"_ And then Nathan would wave the newspaper article in his brother's face – he'd cut it out and kept it on he his desk, ready, just in case – before telling him that he was totally _cut off_ from now on. He'd have to scrabble for access just like a real reporter, groveling for the Senate minutes and many, many more pieces of information in the future that Nathan planned to hold over his head.

Instead, Peter frowned. "You know, I'm trying to be nice here."

"Yeah," Nathan sighed. Not the right time for games, then. "You always do."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Nathan stood and clapped an arm around Peter's shoulder, pulling him close in a half hug and pressing a kiss to Peter's temple. Peter looked faintly surprised, but pleased, when Nathan released him. He stayed near, almost within the circle of Nathan's arms.

"Nothing, Pete. So, do you want to talk about whatever it is that had you so wound up yesterday?" Nathan asked. Never say he didn't have a sense of courtesy. He knew well enough to pretend he didn't know _exactly_ what the problem was.

Thank God Peter was _Peter_, and therefore too open to really hedge or be coy about this.

"I don't know how much talking will help," Peter admitted. "I just feel... It's been three fucking years, Nathan! Dad's dead, he's never going to hurt us again. Why can't I get over it?"

"Because it takes more than just time."

Frustrated tears welled in Peter's eyes. He shrugged stiffly, looking away, voice tight when he continued, "But I _have_ done more. I just... I just want to be better."

Nathan felt his breath solidify in his chest, his muscles tense across his back as he restrained the ache of hearing the pain in his brother's voice. He pulled Peter close again, hugging hard for his own comfort as much as Peter's.

Peter's arms stayed limp at his side, at first, as he let himself be handled and positioned like a doll. Eventually his arms encircled Nathan's back, holding his brother just as tightly as Nathan held him. He rested his forehead against Nathan's shoulder, wet eyes dampening Nathan's t-shirt.

"I know," Nathan said.

The therapists, girlfriends, boyfriends, Ma... they never knew how to take care of Peter. Not like Nathan did. Nathan was the only one who really understood what Peter had gone through, and he was most certainly the only person who had come through to the other side a stronger person himself.

They stayed in that position, Peter warm and tightly clutched to Nathan's chest for a long moment, before Peter started to relax, before his uncomfortably hitched breathing smoothed to a pattern much less painful to listen to.

Perhaps hearing the train of Nathan's thoughts, Peter slipped out of Nathan's grasp enough to tilt his face up, wide hazel eyes searching Nathan's expression as he asked, "What about you?"

"What do you mean?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "What do you think I mean? How are you coping with the whole anniversary thing?"

"I'm fine," Nathan said, kissing Peter again, this time lightly on the forehead. "Don't worry about me."

"_Nathan_..."

Nathan guided them both to sit on his bed, breaking them apart slightly, although his arm was braced on the bed behind Peter's back. He aimed for a casual pose, ignoring Peter's concern, eyes searching the bookshelf opposite for a new topic. He didn't really think "Indo-European Conquests in the Aegean And the Near East" would interest Peter.

"Hey. Um, you don't really think that I don't care about them, right? About Claire, and Lyle, and Bennet?"

Peter raised an eyebrow at the last. Well, what the hell else was he supposed to call the man? Dad was already taken.

"That's the worst segue I've ever heard in my life," Peter said dryly.

However, he did let it go, his penitence over his bad behavior the day before overwhelming his desire for reciprocal sharing _for once_.

"I do care, you know," Nathan insisted, not sure why he suddenly wanted Peter to believe him.

"Oh, I know," Peter said hurriedly. "It's just that you... well, you never really seem interested in their lives. Do you even know what classes Claire is taking?"

"Logical fallacy. I doubt she's taking anything that interests her." But, okay, Nathan could sort of see Peter's point. "Didn't she try out for... cheerleading?"

"Drill team," Peter corrected, soft, amused smile on his face. His bangs fell forward, and Nathan gently tucked them behind his ear.

"Ah. Right. The _slutty_ cheerleaders."

Peter's smile vanished, replaced with an annoyed, very politically correct expression. He smacked Nathan not at all softly on the chest.

"Don't call them that."

"Sorry, Pete, I forgot that you don't like sharing your title. You put in the real slut hours..."

Pete hit him again, more gently this time, but it was enough to spur Nathan to retaliate. Pulling his arm out from behind Peter, where his brother had been leaning on it, he pushed Peter down and moved on top of him for a pin. Peter struggled, gasping out laughter as he tried to topple his brother off of him.

"Peter?" Claire called from the doorway, voice affectionate and indulgent.

The boys froze on the bed and then relaxed, remembering that what they were doing actually _was_ innocent for once. They disentangled themselves, red faced and still panting.

"Was there something you wanted, Claire?" Nathan asked politely, eyes squarely on her, ignoring Peter in his periphery. Now was _not_ the time to think about how good Peter looked flushed.

Claire looked vaguely surprised at the question, like she hadn't expected to find him in his own room. Nathan fought back a surge of annoyance. He hadn't lied to Peter. He cared about Claire. He even liked her. He just didn't think she liked _him_ very much.

"Uh, dinner. Are you coming, Peter?"

He hardly had a choice, after his showing the day before. Peter had slept through dinner, and while Sunday dinner was usually a Bennet only affair – Petrellis opting to stay away so Bennet could spend time with his both kids at the same time, before Lyle went back to his mother's – Ma had made it very clear he had some atoning to do.

"Yeah. I just need to clean up. I'll be down in a bit," Peter said, holding out his hands, wiggling his fingers.

Claire flashed him a bright smile, almost skipping from the room; Nathan rolled his eyes.

"Well, I think I know _one_ thing she's interested in," he muttered, not even trying to hide the jealousy in his voice.

Peter ignored him, as he always did, standing to leave. Long ago, Peter had told him that he wasn't going to let Claire come between them. Not at all a comforting sentiment, in Nathan's opinion, since that meant there _was_ something between Peter and Claire.

"You coming down?"

"She's all yours, tonight, Pete. Flirt all you want. I'll catch the next show."

Peter huffed quietly and glared at him, but didn't deny the charge.

Nathan glowered silently at the closed door long after Peter left.

***

It was a long time before Nathan snuck down to the kitchen, hunger overwhelming his good sense about avoiding his family. Usually he would go out on a date, solving the awkward problem of how to eat without attending a Bennet family dinner.

Since the break up with Heidi, however, he didn't exactly have any prospects lined up.

He really needed to do something about that, especially with prom so close. Nathan considered his options as he raided the kitchen, cook having gone home long before. There was always Heidi. He could try to win her back. But he wasn't big on groveling, and he was fairly sure that's what she wanted. A plausible story for how he'd managed to smell like sex _before_ a date with her would be necessary too – far trickier, since he'd have to fabricate a woman for that.

He didn't think "Well, I was blowing my brother," would exactly charm her back into his arms.

_Note to self_, Nathan thought. _Sex with Peter_ after _dates. Not before._

Nathan's eye hit upon some take out containers, and he brought one up to his nose for a quick sniff. Chicken vindaloo, still good if getting up there in vintage. Now all he needed was... ah, the garlic naan. Grinning to himself in triumph, Nathan hip checked the fridge door closed, hands full.

There weren't a lot of other girls of Nathan's acquaintance that a) he hadn't slept with or b) didn't hate his guts. The former group led back to the entire "groveling" problem. The latter had a more self-evident problem, unless they were into hate sex.

Nathan snorted to himself. He couldn't quite imagine Tracy cornering him in a closet for furious, wild sex.

He paused, looking into space. _Actually_... Nathan could totally imagine that, and it was pretty awesome. He filed the thought away for later consideration. He turned to grab a plate from the cabinet, and damn near dropped the containers in surprise.

His mother, coiffed, wearing a sharp suit and a sharper expression stood waiting on the other side of the room.

"Nathan, if you have a moment?" his mother asked pleasantly, indifferent to his hunger.

"Uh, yeah, sure, Ma."

He followed her out of the room, sparing only one longing glance for his dinner before straightening up. His mother didn't do social calls and most certainly didn't do heart to hearts with him. This was business, of some form, so Nathan had to be prepared for it.

Nonetheless, it was disturbing to be led into Dad's old study. Nathan's eyes widened as he took in the guest waiting in the stiff, dark leather chair in front of the desk.

"Daniel and I were just talking about you, Nathan," his mother said, taking him by the arm to draw him further into the room.

Mr. Linderman turned with a half smile, glass of whiskey – Dad's whiskey – raised in greeting. Ma went to sit behind the desk, hands steepled as she watched the two of them. As she left Nathan to fend for himself.

Nathan managed a resentful glare for her before he greeted their guest.

"Ah, just the man I was waiting for," he said, voice cheerful. "And how are politics treating you, young Nathan?"

"Not bad." Nathan returned uneasily, wishing there were somewhere for him to sit. Then again, maybe not. He didn't like the idea of sitting down to discuss _family business_ with Linderman. Yet another shade of his father's sins.

"You may be wondering why I asked to see you, Nathan. As it turns out, I believe that I may be able to offer a solution to a problem you are facing. Your school is hosting a dance soon, I hear. Prom?"

Nathan shook his head slowly, trying to clear the cotton from his ears. He could have sworn he just heard motherfucking _Linderman_ talking about _prom_. And oh God, why did he have to think that particular word? He really hoped Ma and Linderman weren't having sex. That would be too disturbing.

Linderman frowned at the apparent denial.

"Nathan," Ma started commandingly, head tilted toward Linderman as she urged him to focus. Nathan took a deep breath, pressing his sweaty palms against his jeans. "I was telling Daniel about your administration's slight budget problem."

"I thought I could perhaps be of some assistance."

_Oh, fuck no_. He was not going to accept money from Linderman. They didn't need prom decorations that badly.

But what was the point of the moral high ground? No one would know. And it wasn't like the whole school wasn't a big money laundering operation and front for the Company to _begin_ with.

Fighting images of walking into the Senate, money secured, hailed as a hero by everyone, he asked his mother, "How do you know about that?"

"Noah told me."

"Of course," he replied, smile tight and angry. He'd really liked Bennet a lot more when he was in wetworks, instead of being Ma's personal spy on him and Peter. Bennet probably liked wetworks more too. A hitman's problems were a lot more easily solved than a Vice Principal's, that was for sure.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Linderman," he said, anger barely leashed in his voice. "But I'm not ready to become my father _just yet_. I hope you understand."

Linderman laughed loudly, setting his empty glass down and clapping his hands down onto his legs before he stood.

"My dear boy, don't you worry. I understand _perfectly_." He reached into a pocket, extracting a business card that he forced into Nathan's stiff hand. He leaned close, whispering into Nathan's ear, "But keep me in mind, for the future."

Linderman squeezed his arm in a fatherly gesture. Nathan shivered.

"I do like the boy, Angie," Linderman said over his shoulder, doffing an imaginary hat as he left. "He's got spirit."

"That's a kind way of looking at it, Daniel," Ma said, walking out from behind the desk to show Linderman out. They continued talking about Nathan, about his future with the Company, voices pitched to normal volume but nonetheless fading as they got further from the study.

Ma returned alone, silent as she brushed past Nathan to sit again.

"That was poorly played, Nathan," she said, picking up a pen as she sorted through documents, adding an angry signature to a few.

"What the hell do you want, Ma? I'm not going to be Dad!"

"I want you to consider your future. How far do you really think you'll get without the Company? You think you'll get to the White House? Dear, you didn't make it onto the Student Senate with _his_ money."

Stung, Nathan replied, "That's _not_ true. I did that all on my own."

His mother looked at him pityingly. "I never should have let you believe that. It has clearly confused your priorities."

"My priorities? My priority, _Ma_, is trying to save this family from itself! Trying to clear our name! How the hell am I supposed to do that if I start taking money from the mob in high school?"

"This family is the mob, Nathan. And you need to be realistic about what that means," Ma said, waving her fingers at him, dismissing him from her presence. She turned back to her ever so _pressing_ papers and Nathan walked slowly from the room, anger burning slowly.


	3. Chapter 3

It was 6:45 am and Nathan was already running late as he threaded his Honor Society pin into the knot of his uniform tie. He cursed softly when he heard a knock at his door, surprise making him slip. He'd stabbed himself with the straight pin.

Sucking on the pad of his index finger, he hoped he wasn't in trouble for his late night the day before. Usually Ma and Bennet didn't care much about his curfew, but there had been a strange tension in the house when he came home, silent and asleep though everyone else was.

Behind the door, it was Bennet himself. Nathan opened the door, and barely sparing the man a glance, went back to surveying his appearance in the mirror.

"There's something I need to discuss with you, Nathan," Bennet said, closing the door discreetly behind himself.

Nathan restrained himself from making a snide comments about Bennet's misplaced paternalism. It was a bit late in the game for anyone to play father to him, much though Peter apparently relished having an alternative to Dad around.

But he'd rather get this finished sooner than later, take his punishment if that was what he was due and plead out his case with Ma later. If she cared enough to bother listening, anyway.

"Shoot."

"Your mother informed me of something very interesting that occurred last night, regarding your brother and Claire."

Nathan turned slightly, regarding Bennet with a frown. "Interesting how?"

"It seems my daughter has something of a crush on Peter." _Yeah, tell me something I don't know._ "She asked him out last night and he was rather...let's say _put off_ by the whole thing."

Huh. That was actually surprising. Nathan knew his brother didn't actually have much in the regard of sexual mores and that Peter's relationship with Claire was exactly the kind of playfully flirtatious affair his brother usually pursued. He never would have guessed that Peter would balk at a serious overture from Claire, step-sister or not.

He couldn't help the surge of selfish triumph he felt. Nathan had always assumed he would eventually lose to Claire – to the possibility of a romance in the light of day with someone as close as family, someone who actually understood him, unlike all the rest of his high school flings. The idea of Peter himself extinguishing that possibility was very satisfying, if confusing.

"And what does that have to do with me?" Nathan asked slowly. He didn't want to tip his hand. Bennet didn't know about his relationship with Peter, Ma didn't know that it was still on-going, and he really didn't feel like getting Dr. Laura'd right now.

"You care about your brother. I care about Claire. I can't _be there_ for her all the time, though. I was hoping you would take it upon yourself to keep an eye out for her when I can't. Think of it as your step brotherly duty."

"Keep an eye out... and keep her and Peter apart?" Not that he had anything against that idea, really.

The early morning light glinted off Bennet's glasses, turning them into mirrors.

"I just don't want to see my little girl get hurt again," he said cryptically.

"And I don't like to see my brother hurt," Nathan replied, not quite sure if he meant it as a threat or what he could possibly threaten Bennet with. Telling Ma about this little conference would almost surely result in nastier consequences for Nathan than for Bennet – _he_ knew he wasn't supposed have that close of contact with Peter, but Bennet did not.

He didn't seriously think Angela Petrelli would have her first born killed, but he also didn't want to take the risk. She'd always liked Peter better anyway.

"Then we're agreed?"

Bennet was not honestly threatening Peter, Nathan knew that much. He was making a offer. He would turn a blind eye at school and a home to Nathan's actions, as long as they could be construed as protecting Peter or Claire. He wondered briefly why Bennet was not adding blackmail into the mix, talking of using Peter's exposé about his affairs from the school record against him, but decided that this was the smarter move. It kept them allies.

And Bennet was clearly all too aware that he may want to keep that in reserve.

Carte blanch to act how he wanted, _particularly_ with regard to Peter, was all too tempting.

"We're agreed."

Bennet nodded once and turned to leave. From the doorway, he added, "Then I'll leave you to your... primping. You running late, you know."

Nathan glared into the mirror, checking his appearance one last time. Bennet was already gone, but he couldn't refrain from grumbling, "I don't primp."

Downstairs, for once Claire and Peter were ready and waiting. Well, if you counted furiously trying to finish Calc homework – _come on, Pete, you had_ all _weekend_ – and sleepily munching on toast as ready. It was a lot better than usual, however, and not altogether hard to break up so Nathan could hustle them out to the car.

The commute to school out in Hartsdale was generally very boring, with the added bonus that traffic jams could result in insane, ridiculous tardiness if they didn't hit exactly the right window in New York City traffic. It would probably be easier if any of them took a zero hour class, since traffic would be even lighter earlier, but Nathan was fairly sure that the amount of coffee needed to keep either Claire or Peter awake at that hour would be fatal.

Which was half the reason that, late or not, they didn't skip their regularly scheduled stop at for coffee.

Claire huddled to one side of the backseat in Nathan's town car, face deep into her latte, while Peter balanced his book on his knees, squinting in annoyance at his integrals. Neither touched the entire trip.

Bennet's task would be easier than Nathan thought.

Relaxing into the driver's seat as they turned onto I-87, Nathan watched them in the rear view mirror. There was an idea he wanted to run past them.

"Hey, Pete, you almost done?"

"Nope," Peter said with a grimace, shoving his paper into his book and closing it. "What's up?"

"I was thinking of asking Tracy to the prom."

Peter's eyes flicked to the side, sneaking a quick look at Claire. Unaware of the attention, she merely frowned.

"Why would you do that?" she asked at the same time Peter asked more derisively, "And what makes you think she'd say _yes_?"

"I have a plan," Nathan assured Peter.

Claire pushed her knees hard into the back of Nathan's seat, prodding him to answer her question as well.

"Why?" she repeated.

"She's hot," Nathan said simply. "What's it to you?"

Claire huffed out an angry breath, ready to begin an unexpected tirade before Peter gave her a quick, quelling look. Whatever her problem was, he'd probably offered to solve it himself. _Yeah, right, Pete. Try that white knight routine somewhere else._

"I don't know," she conceded eventually. "I just don't like her."

They passed the rest of the commute in silence, Nathan pulling them into the Class President parking space he'd managed to allocate for himself early on, before Tracy started opposing him in earnest. They walked together to the iron wrought gate in the brick wall circling the school, before Peter spotted Isaac and Simone walking arm in arm and jogged off to join them.

Claire, spotting Zach, waved and started to walk over to him before Nathan took her by the arm, holding her up. Face scrunched in annoyance, she asked, "_What?_"

He jerked his head toward Peter's retreating form.

"Did he say who he's going to prom with?"

Guarded, she replied, "He's going with Isaac and Simone, as friends. For the newspaper."

"Ah."

Well, Nathan would just have to put an end to that. Suddenly his plan for convincing Tracy acquired another, very appealing dimension.

***

He didn't actually see her until fourth period. First, he had Calc where he stoically ignored Peter's pleading glances to let him copy the end of the assignment while Mr. Neuenberg called roll. Then Euro with Mr. Raines, eyes continually drawn to the door leading to Peter's dark room, stomach tightening while he considered just how Peter earned that privilege. AP Bio with Mohinder's father.

Fourth hour was actually Nathan's one blow off class, Public Speaking. He already had his communications credit in Spanish, but he didn't feel up to burdening himself either with a useless elective or another AP, so he opted for an easy A where he could coast if he chose, or refine his rhetoric to razor sharpness.

For the latter goal, luckily enough, Tracy had apparently followed a similar line of reasoning. They ended up quietly measuring their speeches against one another more often than not, to the point where the class was now little more than a forum for their verbal sparring.

Nathan slid into the the desk next to where Tracy sat, long hair shading her face as she wrote furiously, far from his customary seat on the other side of the room. He watched her work for a long moment, waiting for her to look up. She was a very formidable opponent, and he couldn't deny how attractive that was to him.

Her arm darted out, pushing a piece of paper under his nose.

"Sign this."

Nathan frowned, taking it and turning it right side up to read.

"What is it?"

Tracy stopped writing to sigh, glaring up at him. "It's your executive privilege. I had Mr. Bishop sign off on it earlier. It's just up to you to sign and date it so we can file it. Parliamentary procedure."

"Right," Nathan said, reading over the memo.

"It's the same as the one I sent you yesterday," Tracy said, bored by his paranoia. Yet that wasn't enough to convince him. He slanted her a look telling her that he knew her _too well_ to simply believe that.

It was, however, the same. Nathan signed it with a flourish. Tracy held out an indifferent hand, eyes already back on her other notes. Nathan handed over the paper, but held tight enough to regain her attention as she looked up in annoyance.

"Was there something else?" she asked.

Nathan relaxed against the metal bar attaching the desk to the chair, eyes flicking briefly to the front of the class to confirm that he still had time. The clock above the podium ticked forward, giving only a few more minutes for passing.

"You want to be President," Nathan stated.

"I _will_ be President, actually. My campaign is going well."

"But it could be going better," Nathan corrected. "Right now, the school doesn't even care. The only thing they are paying attention to is prom, and the only people they are looking to elect are prom King and Queen."

Tracy shrugged. "There's still plenty of time."

"Not for you, there isn't."

Eyes narrowed, Tracy's voice dropped to a whisper, "What did you do?"

Nathan grinned viciously.

"Nothing. I don't have to. After voting for sweet, honest Niki, who in their right mind would vote for an ambitious shark like you, Tracy? No one."

It was like the choice between Peter and Nathan, one Nathan was still glad the school hadn't voted on. People had an unfortunate tendency to want to protect Peter, frequently from Nathan himself.

A laugh bubbled up from beneath her sneer. "So what are you proposing, _sabotage_? She's my sister, you idiot."

Nathan just shook his head, fingers twirling a pencil. His eyes went to the front of the room again, and he pretended to prepare for class. As an aside, he said, "There is another way, though."

There was a long, quiet moment where the only thing Nathan could hear was Matt chuckling with Hiro over a comic book. Finally, Tracy surrendered to her curiosity, "And what's that, Petrelli?"

Casually, Nathan turned once more. He reached out, brushing back loose strands of blond hair from her annoyed expression.

"Go to the prom with me."

***

Nathan and Tracy spent lunch laying out their plan in the Special Education resource room, their hushed conversation drawing curious and confused looks from Dr Suresh just the same as from Daphne and Ando. Sitting at a table diagonal to Nathan and Tracy, West pulled out his phone, not very covertly taking a photo, most likely to send on to Peter.

Nathan never liked that guy, anyway.

The plan was this: step one, charm offensive. They had to lay the ground work of reminding the students that Niki wasn't the only Sanders sister in the school, and not the only _nice_ Sanders sister either. Bake goods figured into this portion of the plan fairly strongly.

Step two was finding a way to subtly remind the school just who the Petrellis were. Nathan didn't really think anyone had _forgotten_, per se, but he didn't want to take it for granted that he was royalty. It needed to come from the study body first. Tracy was thinking a grass roots, viral campaign was the best choice here. They'd have to charm a couple of underclassmen into repeating the meme that Petrellis, by their nature, deserved to be crowned – that Nathan's date did as well would naturally follow.

"Step three," Nathan explained, "is the easy one. We need an editorial, preferably from Simone or Isaac instead of Peter, endorsing you for President."

Tracy added that step to her outline, highlighting it yellow and adding a bullet point. She frowned down at it.

"Isn't that skipping ahead?"

Nathan shook his head, smiling inwardly. Already they were working together, like a real team.

"Tracy, you don't want the paper to pick you for prom Queen. If anyone thinks you're _actually_ after Niki's crown, it'll make you look petty, and then you'll lose both elections. If it looks like this is part of your Presidential campaign, students will make you Queen without ever realizing that was part of your agenda."

Tracy's expression had flickered at the word "petty", but now a wicked smile was sliding across her lips.

"You're good," she said, voice low and promising.

Nathan swallowed, trying not to show just how much of a reaction that provoked. Eyes intense on hers, he offered a tight smile as he leaned forward.

"You're not bad yourself," he murmured, brushing a kiss across her mouth.

The kiss would have to remain brief, because Nathan found himself jerked away from Tracy suddenly, pulled from his seat and hauled around to face his brother.

His very angry brother.

"What the hell, Pete?" Nathan snapped, pushing him away and straightening his uniform jacket.

Peter rolled his eyes disdainfully, showing just what he thought of Nathan's show of innocence.

"You know," he started with conversational sarcasm, "as far as revenge goes, this is pretty lame. The Senate minutes? You think anyone in school cares about the Senate?"

_You couldn't wait to do this at home?_ Nathan thought, annoyed on many levels.

"You clearly do."

Anger thrummed up Peter's body, and his fist clenched. Nathan braced for the swing, eyes flicking over to where Mr. Suresh was rising from his desk, to West snapping yet more photos. Peter's eyes followed, and he restrained himself, taking a few deep breaths.

Eventually, Peter looked up through his hair and smirked. "I care because you just gave me a new front page story: 'Petrelli Administration Secrecy Hides New Executive Privilege.' And they care because it's the only prom they'll ever have. No one wants to hear that you suddenly have all the power you need to screw it up for them."

Nathan startled. "Who told you about that?"

The whole _point_ of keeping Peter from getting the minutes was that he wasn't supposed to know what happened in that meeting.

Peter shook his head, chuckling, and turned to leave. At the door, always fond of the theatrical, he cast a look back over his shoulder, eyes big and honest, tone self-righteous as he said, "Why Nathan, I'd never betray my source."

And the problem was, it could have been anyone in the Senate. Most of them liked Peter a damn sight more than Nathan. He shifted his gaze from the door Peter was disappearing through, to the table where Daphne and Ando sat. Ando offered a wide, strained "Please don't blame me" smile and Daphne just waved cheerily, oblivious to the stakes.

Probably not Ando. He wasn't the betraying type. But that still left Heidi, Mohinder, Meredith...

And Tracy.

Nathan glared down at her. Tracy, who had drawn a nail file from her bag, shrugged lightly, continuing her manicure as she admitted, "Hey, we weren't allies until about an hour ago."

"You realize," he said tightly, "you just made step three much harder than it needs to be."

Eyes on the nearly filed nails of her right hand, she reached out with her left to tug him down to sit once more. Blowing nail dust from her hand, she said indifferently, "We'll think of something."

Disgruntled, Nathan leaned his arms onto the table, glaring at West until the boy turned away.

"And by 'something' you mean blackmail?" he asked. That sounded good right now.

"Obviously," she said dismissively. Nathan's mind was still spinning with possibilities, however. "No, the real problem is how we pull off number two. Groundswells of support aren't exactly predictable. Do you know how many times corporations have tried to go viral and made themselves into laughing stocks? We need to plan carefully."

Nathan stared into the distance, barely listening to what Tracy was saying. His bargain with Noah Bennet swirled in his mind, twisting together with his jealousy over Peter's prom plans. A plan – a complicated, convoluted plan that Bennet wouldn't be entirely happy with – began to form.

But Nathan didn't really care about making Bennet happy. And if this worked, he might just kill three or four birds with one stone.

"Tracy," he interrupted, "I know we need to do. But first, I need you to tell me what your problem with Claire Bennet is."

***

After the last bell, Nathan asked all of the Freshmen he knew by name – all two of them – until a bystander took pity on him and told him where Claire's locker was. He'd tried texting Peter earlier, but he was still in a snit, sending back, "LOL USE UR EXEC PRIV."

Brat.

Claire and Zach stood by her open locker in the east wing of the school, one of the older, more institutional parts of the building. The cool, white stone arches and pale aqua stripe down the wall made this corridor feel more like an asylum or a prison than a school. Everyone always joked that was why the Psychology class always did experiments here, but there was more truth to the old joke than most students knew.

The Company once put this building to very different purposes.

Spotting Nathan, Claire sighed and closed her locker door.

"I'm ready, okay?" She turned to Zach, saying, "I'll talk to you later online."

"No, Claire, we're not leaving yet. I just wanted to talk to you."

Claire and Zach shared a look, before she said slowly, "You wanted to talk?"

Nathan glowered. "Yes. Talk. Is that somehow confusing?"

"No, no!" Claire said, tone indulgent. "It's just... new."

There was a reason Nathan left whole categories of life to Peter to deal with, particularly "nice" and "talking to Claire."

"Yeah, well, I have an offer for you. And for Zach," he added, when he saw the boy trying to inch away. "How would you like to go to prom?"

"_Together_?" Zach yelped, eyes wide. Claire laughed, punching him in the shoulder.

"No, not together, you dork." She turned back to Nathan, sudden concern in her green eyes. "Right?"

Nathan shook his head, muttering under his breath about _teenagers_, irony not lost on him. "No, not together. Just you, Claire. And before you joke about Tracy turning me down, no, not with me. With Peter."

"Uh, Nathan, I know you're President and everything, but I don't think you have that kind of authority."

"And didn't you, like, have a huge fight with him?" Zach interjected. "It's all over school. He just walked into the Specials room and sucker punched you."

Goddamn West. If he was going to take pictures, couldn't he at least send them out with the real story?

Nathan gestured to his unblemished face. "Do I look like I was sucker punched?"

Zach leaned in close to scrutinize Nathan before Claire grabbed him, pulling him back. She fixed Nathan with a considering look. She was Bennet enough to know he wouldn't offer something he couldn't deliver; Petrelli enough to know there would be a price.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Make Tracy popular," Nathan directed a look down at Zach, ignoring Claire's sputtering indignance. "And I need you to make a campaign video."

"She kept me off the drill team!" Claire objected.

"For prom Queen?" Zach asked.

Nathan shook his head. "No, for President. And make sure to keep filming between takes. Try to be as funny as possible. We're going to need the outtakes."

"_Nathan_! How the hell am I supposed to make that bitch popular?"

"Think of something. Or no prom and no Peter," Nathan said, "Now, are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," she huffed out sullenly.

They spent the walk out to the car in silence, Nathan deeply satisfied with the deal he'd struck (as long as Bennet didn't find out about it and kill him, anyway) and Claire rather less so. It was only when Nathan opened the door that Claire spoke up again.

"You know, you didn't offer Zach anything."

Nathan grinned into the rear view mirror; Peter was running out into the parking lot, looking like he thought Nathan really would leave without him.

"I know."


End file.
